The Party
by hmswolfstar
Summary: In which the servants have a drinking contest, and everyone from Upstairs decides to join them. (Utter, utter crack. Of the highest degree.)
1. Chapter 1

**This story started life as a crack!RP in our Downton Abbey RP forum (**.net/forum/Downton_Abbey_RP/84113/**) This is the original RP topic, with tweaks here and there to make it into a smooth flowing story for everyone that doesn't check out the forums! It was co-written by the following users: (in order of appearance)**

ScubaKanga as Thomas  
WotcherNymphadora as Tom Branson  
Scarlet Secret as Sarah O'Brien  
Lady Grantham as Cora Crawley and William  
TheShippyQueen as Robert Crawley and Anna  
StuckInThePast as Gwen and Mr Bates  
MissMattSmith as Sybil Crawley and Louis Malloy (OC)  
Silvestria as Mary Crawley  
xheart to thee as Edith Crawley  
Cattie V. as Daisy****

Thomas looked around, and then quietly opened the storage cupboard everyone _thought _was empty. Once again he looked down the corridor, before taking out a bottle of whisky from the box. He and O'Brien used the cupboard for storing things they'd nicked from various places, and no-one had ever found it. Setting it down on the table, he crept into the kitchen and opened various drawers until he found a corkscrew. He'd just opened the bottle when the sounds of various pairs of footsteps came down the hallway. Damn. Thomas left the bottle and stood by the other door, trying to look as though he'd just arrived.

"Alright Thomas?" Branson asked as he walked in "Get me a glass would you?"

Branson had caught him red handed. He very much doubted that bottle of whiskey had come out of Thomas wages. But he felt he should cut the man some slack, he had been drafted after all. Besides, Branson felt like a drink too. Thomas was a bit of a slippery character from his experience. Although he'd never personally done anything wrong to Branson he'd still been a right little bugger to Bates, and Bates was a good man. But Branson really didn't care. He'd be damned if he missed his last chance to get shattered before he left for war.

Sarah O'Brien came through the door next, and saw the bottle standing on the table. She recognised it immediately and out of the corner of her eye saw Thomas. Stupid bloody idiot, fancy getting that out now! Assuming it wasn't confiscated they'd have to share it!

"Where's that come from?" she asked. Best pretend ignorance. She glared over at Thomas and shook her head ever so slightly.

_Don't say a word lad._

'I don't know,' Thomas lied; well aware no-one would believe it. Ah, what the hell, he couldn't be bothered tonight, so he went back into the kitchen and got three glasses. Branson didn't seem to mind. They didn't know each other very well, so Thomas had yet to make an opinion of him. He poured two glasses and stopped before the third. 'You want some?' he asked O'Brien.

O'Brien gave Thomas a withering expression. "No, I thought I'd stick to tea tonight in case either of you need me to hold yer hair back when yer throwin' up later. Course I bleedin' want some." She fell into her normal chair, thoroughly harassed from her day but grudgingly satisfied that sharing it with one other person was not the end of the world. And Branson seemed alright, he was certainly brighter than most of the cretins in this place.

William sat silently at the kitchen table, looking up at the sudden flurry of activity. He'd been quite happily minding his own business and polishing the silver, but felt a sense of dread overtake him as he saw the bottle. _No good is going to come of this_, he thought, shifting nervously. "I'm not sure 'is lordship intended us to drink when 'e suggested we 'ave a party," he offered meekly. "What if they need us later?"

"No drink William? What kind of parties do you go to lad?" asked Branson. He downed his glass of whiskey in one. It certainly wasn't single malt but it would do. A party with no drink indeed, Branson's father would be ashamed

'Oh Christ,' said Thomas, smirking at William's nervousness, 'Who cares what his Lordship intended?' To irritate William further, he filled up a glass and passed it to him. He'd better drink it. That would definitely be interesting.

O'Brien knocked back her drink too. She was a proud Lancashire woman after all and was not to be outdone by an Irishman. "Go on William, just one won't 'urt you."

_Poor lad_ thought Branson. _He's looking at that whiskey like he's going to drown in it_. "If you don't want it, I'll have it" Branson bet that it would only take that one glass before William was on the floor.

'You never had whisky before or something?' Thomas finally took his glass and drank it in one like the other two. William's face was a picture. Thomas was certain William was a lightweight.

"I don't go to many parties," William defended, realizing, belatedly, that such a defence was probably more pathetic than not drinking anyway. He hesitated at the offer, looking to the bottle as if it would transform into some kind of demon and eat off his face. There was a reason he didn't drink, but, underneath the glare of so many expectant eyes, he forgot it. William finally reached for the suddenly appearing glass (who had poured it, anyway?) picking it up as if it might suddenly bite. "Well ... I suppose one won't 'urt," he muttered, before attempting to knock back the glass as the others had done. He promptly broke out into a spasm of coughs, throat burnt by the liquid.

O'Brien smirked. The great daft lad was looking more convinced by the moment. Thomas was going to force this drink on him and she half hoped he would manage it. Thomas' face would be a picture. She was right and her increasingly amused half-smile only made her look smugger.

Thomas smirked as William broke into a fit of coughing. _Definitely _his first time. Oh, this was brilliant. He supposed he should feel sorry for the man, but it was too amusing, to be frank.

Branson gave William a few claps on the back. O'Brien and Thomas had awfully smug looks on their faces, and he felt perhaps he had not chosen the best drinking friends after all. "William, maybe whiskey's not your thing. How about we get you a bottle of beer or stout?" Beer didn't have such an edge; at least he'd look less of fool with a beer in his hand than nothing at all.

"That might be better," William admitted sheepishly, still in the midst of a coughing fit, his cheeks suitably pink, both from choking and embarrassment. Maybe he'd make less of a fool of himself with a bottle of beer. At least he'd had _that_ before. He looked up to Branson, giving him a grateful nod, studiously ignoring Thomas and O'Brien. He bet they'd coughed their first time too!

Thomas left the room and went back to the cupboard. This was getting better by the second. A minute later he reappeared with a bottle of beer, hoping nobody would ask where it was from. Just go with it. 'Will this do?'

William nodded, accepting the bottle meekly, his cheeks still scarlet. _At least Daisy 'adn't seen_, he thought, though he expected Thomas wouldn't wait to rub it in amongst the others. "Thanks," he muttered, attempting to adopt as masculine tone as possible, despite his wounded pride. He didn't know why he bothered.

"I've got a crate that _I bought_ for my study in the garage, I'll go get it" Branson walked off, feeling a little guilty that William would now be left at the mercy of O'Brien and Thomas; they'd probably ladle half the bottle down his throat by the time he returned.

Anna had heard the voices coming from downstairs and decided to go and see what was going on. On entering the room she took a look around and blinked. She couldn't ever quite remember seeing a scene quite like it. "What's going on?" She asked, her expression bemused.

'Go on then,' Thomas encouraged. Now _this _was something he was looking forward to. Turning around, he spotted Anna standing in the doorway. 'Branson's coming right back.' He explained.

O'Brien smirked. "I'll be back an' all," she winked at Thomas. "I've got to fetch something from my room." She slid out of her seat and immediately vanished. William would be safe with Thomas and Anna for a minute. She had a special surprise for the maid.

"'Is lordship was kind enough to suggest we 'ave a party," William explained, holding the bottle in his hand very carefully, looking exceedingly nervous, especially under Thomas' scrutiny. At least Anna was an ally. And he liked his odds of survival better with her, rather than without. "Someone 'ad a stash." He didn't dare point out who.

" 'Is Lordship suggested we have a party?" Anna asked, this seemed to be getting stranger by the minute. She noticed O'Brien's look at Thomas as she slipped away, she was up to something there was no doubt about that! "Don't go drinking too much of that William, it'll go to yer head!" She warned.

Gwen stepped to one side in the doorway as Miss O'Brien passed her, and stepped into the hall. There was a smell in the room that reminded her of home - recently opened whisky. _Let's give 'em a surprise,_ she thought wickedly, and scooted into the seat beside William. "That whisky goin' for t' takin'?" she asked, reaching for a glass and grinning cheekily at Thomas.

Branson returned with a near full crate of beer in his arms. It was a pity there was no cider to speak of (unless of course Thomas had conveniently found some of that in his possession too) because he really did like it. "We have beer!" he exclaimed heartily. And then he spotted Anna, She was a really nice girl, but he wasn't sure she was one for piss ups.

Thomas couldn't help but laugh at Branson's exclamation before he saw Anna. There was a second's awkward silence before he took one of the bottles from the crate and passed it to her.

Louis walked into the room grinning. "Is that the scent of whisky I smell before me?" He sat down and eyed the bottle. "Mind if I have some?"

Branson cracked open a bottle on his teeth and began drinking from it enthusiastically. It had been far too long since he'd been properly drunk. The village pub was a drag with all its farmers and shop keepers. With the people here, it ought to be a laugh. "Anyone for a bottle then?" he asked opening another bottle and holding out to whoever would take it.

Louis glanced at the bottle, and shook his head. "Nahh, I'm more of a cider guy. Think I've got some in my trunk. I'll grab it later, if we run out of drink." He looked over at William "His lordship said we could? Well, I hope he's not expecting any of us to be driving or serving later!"

Anna looked at the bottle of beer and then back at Thomas. She could see he was expecting her to refuse it, but she'd show him! "Don't mind if I do!" She said with a smirk.

"I'm alright," William responded, waving his still untouched bottle slightly in confirmation. It wasn't that he didn't like beer, 'cause he did. He was no Branson, but then he was Irish, wasn't he? But he could take his alcohol. It was the embarrassment holding him back more than anything, particularly Thomas and O'Brien's cackling. What was she up to, anyway?

More people seemed to arrive one by one. All Thomas had meant to do was have one bottle of whiskey, now half the staff had the same idea. He couldn't help but think this evening was going to be _brilliant. _

O'Brien returned and immediately locked her eyes onto Branson's crate. "I'll 'ave one of them if there's one goin'." She settled back into her seat and casually plonked a mysterious, unlabelled green bottle on the table. She saw Anna with a drink and sneered slightly. She hoped she choked on it.

Louis looked at all of the bottles around the room, and grinned impishly. "I challenge one of you - any of you - to a drinking contest."

O'Brien sniggered at Louis' challenge. He really was new here. "You don't want to try me lad."

Thomas turned to Louis. 'Alright,' he said, 'you're on. William, give us a tune while you're still sober enough to see the keys will yah?" Anna took the beer from his hand. _'Well I'll be damned_' he thought. He certainly wasn't expecting that.

If there was one thing Branson knew how to do it was a have a good knees up. You needed to start with booze, then have some music and it usually ended in a brawl however Branson wasn't so sure Carson would be thrilled with any fighting.

"I'll take that challenge, Louis," Gwen offered with a chuckle. It was _far_ too long since she had really let herself go. Tonight was going to be wonderful.

Louis smiled. "Pick your poison. I'm happy with whatever." He hoped he could beat them. He was pretty confident in his drinking ability, but he didn't know the others well enough to know theirs.

"A contest! Well be prepared to be obliterated people" There was only one person on earth who could out drink Branson and it was his father and he would be ashamed to know that he was beaten by a boy, a woman and an Englishman.

"Me too!" Anna added, "I take your challenge too new boy!" She had a feeling she was going to truly enjoy this evening!

Louis laughed. "I do have a name you know. But I'll take you all on. Well, I'll try to."

William's eyes widened at the sight of the mysterious green bottle. He followed O'Brien's eyes to Anna and audibly gulped. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Maybe we shouldn't get _too_ merry?" he spoke up nervously. If 'is lordship called for one of 'em, and they were all slumped unconscious over the table ... He suddenly registered that had been asked a question and let out a breath of relief. Maybe if he was playing, he wouldn't be expected to drink too much, and maybe he'd survive the firing squad Lord Grantham was sure to organise. "What d'ya 'ave in mind?" he asked, standing up to move over to the piano. Now _this_ he could do.

'Shall we start with beer or whiskey?' Thomas asked, grinning. Now everyone had decided to start a drinking contest, even the girls. Carson would be furious.

"Someone pass me an 'andful o' beers," Gwen said, and grinned at Branson. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, Irish or no."

"Go on then," O'Brien said, feigning indifference. "I'll join in. Don't want to be a spoilsport."

Thomas took the cart of beers and set six down on the table. Round 1.

Branson shook his head, like they could beat him. He wondered if William would join in. _Probably best he doesn't _Branson thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Thinking she might as well get the ball rolling amongst all these children O'Brien swigged her beer, taking half the bottle down in one go, before looking round. "Christ, where did you find this gnats piss?"

Louis grabbed one of the beer bottles, and flashed a grin at Thomas. "Ready?"

Thomas followed suit and picked up on the bottles. "Of course."

Gwen caught Louis' eye and shot him a challenging glare. She tore the top off her bottle and spat it across the room, leaning forward on her elbows into the table. Louis raised his eyebrow and grinned at Gwen, then proceeded to drink his bottle at a rapid pace, finishing quickly. He slammed it down on the table, returning Gwen's challenging glare.

Since nobody had suggested any sort of tune, William supposed he'd have to pick something himself. He supposed nothing too sad, under the circumstances. Maybe if he played something jaunty, they could avoid somebody getting hurt, in the spirit of togetherness and fun and all that. He doubted it. Cracking his knuckles, he began to play

Branson downed half of his before taking a large breath and continuing on to drain the second half. "Bring on the seconds then, and how about that cider Louis?"

O'Brien finished her bottle quickly; hoping that if she drank enough these people might be bearable. "More beer first I reckon."

Anna ripped the top off her bottle using her teeth. "Bottoms up!" She sang before downing it in one. She threw the bottle across the room and gave a triumphant shout. Turning to Branson she bellowed, "Line 'em up Big Man!"

Thomas set out some more beer on the table. So far everyone seemed to be managing, and William had crept off to play the piano in the background. He supposed that was for the best really.

* * *

Mary had had a deeply frustrating day. There was... _something _about Cousin Matthew that always left her feeling unsatisfied after speaking to him - and he always did contrive to meet her on her walks in the park, almost as if he was expecting her! And then Edith - well, never mind that. And now nobody was answering the bell. In a fearsome temper, she descended into the kitchen, all ready to let any hapless servant she found feel the full extent of her wrath, and paused, gobsmacked, on the threshold at what she saw going on.

Louis stood up sharply. "Lady Mary!"

William stopped playing abruptly and stood as Lady Mary entered, his face white. He _knew_ this was going to end badly. Firing squad and all!

_Shit._ O'Brien shot to her feet and anticipated a rebuke. Christ she hoped Mary wasn't going to tell her mother.

Mary glowered. And so they noticed her. Well, about time too! "I rang for tea," she said to the assembled group in her iciest tones. "Ten minutes ago. And then I kept on ringing. I was under the impression that when I rang the bell, it got answered." What on earth did they think they were doing? And where on earth had all that beer come from? She eyed it disdainfully. Though really, something stronger than tea would possibly help her headache more...

O'Brien glanced around at the others. She supposed she was the most senior person present... "M'lady, your father gave us permission to hold a party tonight. Didn't he tell you?"

"This is not a party, O'Brien. It is a bar room brawl." Mary retorted, her eyes narrowing. She suddenly became aware of Sybil just behind her. Good Lord, just what she should not be involved in! "Sybil, go upstairs immediately!"

Sybil had followed Mary down to the kitchen. She had been going to use the excuse of needing a drink, though she was more interested in trying to see Tom, if she was honest. She had stopped behind Mary, eyes wide at the sight before her. Then, as the initial surprise wore off, she descended into helpless giggles.

Branson blushed crimson. There he was, falling halfway of his chair caressing a bottle of beer with his lips, and Lady Sybil had seen him. She must think him a right drunkard! "L-lady Sybil." Branson stood up immediately and sat down only when he realized the others weren't following suit.

O'Brien's scowl was just as impressive as Mary's own. _I'll give 'er a brawl if she bloody wants one._ "He did say we were relieved of our duties for the evening...m'lady." She added as an afterthought.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mary," William stuttered, blushing as he shifted on the spot. "Is there anything that I can get for you?" He supposed, even though they had the night off, the family came first.

Mary ignored O'Brien. That woman was always difficult. Instead she turned a sweet smile on William. He had always been her favourite footman. "Thank you! A cup of tea would be-" Her eye alighted on the beer again. She had never tried beer. She dragged her eyes away. "A cup of tea, yes. I shall remember this, William!" she added with a glare at O'Brien.

If William had been more like Thomas, he would have smiled smugly in O'Brien's direction. But he wasn't. Instead, he felt extraordinary pride at Lady Mary's praise and puffed out his chest. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, before scurrying off to attend to the task that her ladyship had bestowed upon him. At least then he could escape the carnage.

'Things aren't getting out of hand, milady,' Thomas offered. To be honest he was feeling too relaxed to care much that Lady Mary was there. He could have a damn party if he wanted.

O'Brien bristled at Mary's glare. Who was Lady Mary Crawley to dictate behaviour to them; she was hardly a paragon herself! She could have forgiven it from Lady Sybil, or even Lady Edith, but really to be dictated to by someone no better than they ought to be! She sat back down and reached, unconcernedly, for another beer, deciding the best strategy was to ignore the intruders from upstairs.

Well, Thomas thought, as he saw Lady Mary glance curiously at all the alcohol, beer did bring out interesting sides to people.

Drink had always made Gwen more confident than was good for her, especially when her father's employer had been around. The presence of Lady Mary, therefore, was nothing, and Lady Sybil was almost a friend. "D'you want to join us, milady?" she asked cheerfully, holding out her half-finished beer.

The booze had given Gwen some guts, Branson was glad that she was the one to ask the sisters to join them. Branson would've stuttered like a schoolboy if he'd asked Lady Sybil.

"I only want tea!" snapped Mary and then felt instantly guilty. "And Sybil doesn't want anything!" After all, she probably would not have snapped so much if it wasn't so tempting. "But thank you for the offer, Gwen," she added in a more contrite voice.

"Are you sure you don't want anything Lady Sybil?" Branson asked. He was only trying to let the girl speak for herself.

Thomas went into the kitchen, and promptly came out again. "There's no tea" he announced confidently.

"No-?" Mary gave up at this obvious obstruction and lie. Her head ached too much and she was too fed up. She came fully into the room up to the table. "Give me one of them!" she ordered defiantly. She indicated the crate of beer, still holding herself as still and upright as befitted Lord Grantham's eldest daughter.

Branson raised an eyebrow. "Alright then, there you go" He cracked the bottle open on his teeth and shoved it into her hands, if she expected to be treated like a lady down here she had another thing coming.

Sybil was still standing in the doorway, chuckling at her sister. She made her way to sit next to Branson. She smiled at him; then turned to Mary.

"Say _please_, darling sister. And could someone please pass me one?"

Louis chuckled, and chucked her a bottle. He was slightly confused that they had stayed to drink, though he thought that it could be quite a lot of fun...

Branson smiled at her. "Drink it slow; else it'll go straight to your head Mi'Lady. He cringed when "Mi'Lady" passed his lips but he couldn't call her Sybil in front of everyone, could he?

Gwen held back a giggle, wondering if the whole of upstairs would be joining them. An image of the Dowager Countess downing a beer appeared in her mind, and she snorted, the drink she had just swallowed spraying out of her nose, thankfully not drenching anyone. She ducked her head for a brief moment, then lifted it and grinned, swallowing the rest of her bottle and reaching for another.

Mary found herself with a bottle in each hand. Well, that should keep her going for a while. She acknowledged both with a nod, and then took an empty seat at the table, smoothing her skirts as she sat. She looked at the bottle for a moment, then raised it to her lips and took a small sip. Not bad. Fizzier than expected. "Ten minutes, Sybil. We stay ten minutes and then we leave, and nobody _ever_ hears about this." She lowered the bottle, alarmed to see she had already drunk almost half of it! "So, you just sit here and drink? Is this it? I can't say it makes for a terribly interesting evening, in my opinion." She took another swig.

"Ten minutes?" Sybil looked stricken. "You can't expect me to only stay here _ten minutes. _A little longer, please!" She cheerfully downed half of her bottle, and unpinned her hair from its intricate bun. She intended to stay for as long as she wanted. After Tom spoke, she nudged him teasingly. "Sybil. Not 'm'lady'."

Mary looked at her sister in horror. "Sybil - I - you can't do that!" She sounded less sure than she had been a few minutes ago. However, it was hard to be too uptight when the beer was making her feel so relaxed.

O'Brien smirked and shared a glance with Thomas. Of all the people upstairs Sybil had always been one of the ones they hated the least. And here she was proving that she didn't think herself better than them. Sarah did so like to be right. If only Mary would go away. "We don't do this every night m'lady. And I'm sure we'll liven up shortly..."

Branson paused for thought. Ten minutes was not long enough to devise a plan to get Sybil alone in the garage with him. Perhaps if he got Lady Mary drunk enough she would notice if they sneaked away.

"Have you ever tried whiskey, Lady Mary?" Branson asked with a grin plastered on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Who did he think she was?

"Of course I have!" she replied with dignity. "When we were at Sandringham the other year, there was an entire day set aside for whiskey tasting! In fact-"

She broke off, suddenly remembering that Papa had brought several bottles back. She stood up, grabbed Carson's key off the hook and disappeared.

Branson smiled at Sybil, and gripped her hand under the table. He was no lightweight but he was already feeling more daring than usual. And as soon as Mary and the rest of the staff were intoxicated enough he could steal away Sybil without anyone noticing.

Sybil smiled, and wound her fingers round his. She drank from her bottle with the other, and decided that perhaps she should request beer rather than wine at dinner. It tasted so much nicer!

Louis grinned. "Perhaps when Lady Mary gets back, we should invite her to join our drinking contest." He leant back in his seat, and put his feet up on the table, smiling a devilish smile. "I vote for spiking her drink. One of you must have some proper heavy stuff. O'Brien?"

"I don't see why you're looking to me lad. Why would I 'ave anythin' stronger?" She looked indignantly around at a group who were all wearing varying degrees of doubt on their faces. "Oh a fine lot you are!"

"P'raps whatever's in that bottle," Gwen suggested with a wicked smile. "What is it, Miss O'Brien? Looks like somethin' out've a Shakespeare play.

O'Brien scowled at Gwen. "It's off limits is what it is!"

"Come on O'Brien!" Anna called, "Unless of course you're too...scared?"

She gave her sweetest smile at the sour faced woman and ripped another bottle cap off her next bottle of beer. She downed it in one and sent the bottle skidding across the table, "Come on, crack a smile for once in yer life!"

O'Brien boggled at Anna. Oh this was certainly worth the price of admission!

"I'm not smilin' and I'm not scared. This bottle has been brewing for nearly two bloody years now, I'm hardly going to waste it on your," she knocked the bottle away from herself "terrible palette."

Louis smirked. "Come on O'Brien. You can't say the thought of drinking Lady 'high-and-mighty' Mary under the table doesn't appeal to you!"

Her head snapped round at Louis.

"It's fer Lady Mary? Well," she smirked at the first person who caught her eye, which oddly, happened to be Lady Sybil. "Why didn't ya say so?"

Branson chuckled. "At least share some gin O'Brien, and don't tell me don't drink gin 'cause no-one will believe you." Now that Branson had got the idea into his head he really did feel like a drop of gin.

She turned to Branson and raised an eyebrow. "When did I say I didn't like gin? You people 'ave got some funny ideas." She actually smiled slightly as she reached for the glass.

Louis chuckled. "I did say it was for spiking her drink with. Now hurry up with it before she gets back!"

Sybil grinned at the thought, and smirked back at O'Brien. Perhaps she wasn't as bad as she thought. "Please do! I'd love to see her drunk!"

She reached out for another bottle, and tried to open with her teeth, but gave up, laughing at herself. "You'll have to teach me."

"Here," Branson held his hand out for the bottle "I'll teach you Sybil."

"Christ...if your mother finds out I sat here and let you ruin your teeth..." The small smile came back at Sybil's words and she decided to ignore the drunken housemaid. "Give me 'er bottle."

She took it when it was offered and poured in a fair measure of her own concoction. It was clear and she tried not to breathe the fumes in too much less she make a disgrace of herself. That was for Lady Mary to do.

Louis grinned. "Y'know O'Brien, for a mean old bat, perhaps you aren't that bad after all." He sniffed the concoction, and recoiled slightly. "Blimey! What's in that?"

"Trust me lad," her smirk grew wider and her eyes danced with expectation. "You don't want to know. Lady Sybil, is it alright if Thomas and I smoke in your presence?"

It was half-mocking but she hoped Sybil would join in the joke. If not, at least she had asked permission even if it was contrarily.

Sybil glanced over at O'Brien, smiling slightly. She recognised the slightly mocking tone.

"Why of course!" She smiled impishly, and then added seriously. "Don't inconvenience yourself on my account. That would be most unfair."

* * *

Edith sighed as she walked out of the library, after having spent the majority of the evening reading a novel, and carefully straightened the creases in her skirt that had developed from sitting. As she walked past the entrance to the servants quarters downstairs she could not help but hear raised voices and laughing, causing her to roll her eyes.

Shouldn't they be doing something productive, as opposed to laughing and chattering about nonsense?

The curious side of Edith took over and she gripped the handle of the door, peered over her shoulder to ensure no one saw her, and made her way downstairs towards the kitchen. As she neared the kitchen the raised voices and laughter heightened and the distinct aroma of alcohol hit her nostrils. She peered over the edge of the banister and saw several servants consuming alcoholic drinks and conversing. As she was watching the scene before her she heard a familiar voice. Sybil? It couldn't be. Yes, it was Sybil's voice she heard. What on earth is she doing down here? As she was debating this very absurd occurrence Edith noticed out of the corner of her a familiar dress and she could not believe her eyes.

Mama will love to know about this. Edith's eyes narrowed and a sly smile crept onto her face before she turned on her heels and made her way back upstairs to inform her mother of her findings.

* * *

It had taken Mary longer than she expected to find Papa's stash of top quality Scottish whiskeys, but success was hers eventually. She grabbed two, carefully locked the store cupboard behind her and sashayed back into the kitchen with a look of arrogant smugness on her face. Honestly, it wasn't as if her father had ever made any signs of drinking him. In fact, serve him right for the whole way he was dealing with the Great Matter! She might not get Downton because stupid, annoying, arrogant, attractive, intelligent- wait, what? she meant irritating cousin Matthew would get it, but she could drink his whiskey!

She plonked the two bottles down on the table. "You asked if I drank whiskey, Mr. Branson!" she said with a hint of a challenge.

Branson opened the bottle for Sybil and handed it back to her with a smile, turning to Lady Mary. He eyed the bottles of whiskey. They looked quality "Are they single malt Mi'Lady?" he asked.

"Of course," Mary smirked. "Papa always has the best. And now," she said triumphantly and a little nastily, "we are going to drink it!" Then she waited. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"

Sybil grinned. She recognised Papa's finest whisky. "Did I detect a hint of a challenge there sister dearest?" She laughed. This would be something to watch. Though Mary was her sister, she couldn't help rooting for Tom.

O'Brien looked over. "Don't you want to finish your beer first Lady Mary?" She nudged it towards the younger woman, hoping her efforts had not been in vain. She didn't think she was the only one eagerly anticipating Mary's response either.

"A challenge?" she said with a superior look at Sybil. "I hope so!" She grabbed her second bottle of beer as O'Brien pushed it forward and took a swig. It tasted stronger than the previous one somehow, but no doubt it was only her anticipation for the whiskey to come that made her think so. "I'm glad you approve, Branson. Please, everybody, help yourselves!" She leaned back in her seat, presiding much as she would have done over a debutantes' tea-party.

Sybil glanced at Mary. She was waiting eagerly for O'Brien's stuff to kick in. She grabbed a glass of whisky and knocked it back. It was strong, but not unpleasant. It made her feel a little braver too. Perhaps when Mary was too far gone to notice, she could slip out. Though, of course, not until after Mary and Tom's contest. She could barely contain her giggles as Mary's eyes darkened, and her cheeks started going pink. She'd barely touched a drop, so it had to be whatever was in her drink. She nudged Tom, and tilted her head almost imperceptibly towards Mary.

O'Brien nearly imploded with glee. She was yet to see this stuff in action and what a better test subject than Lady Mary! Anna really must have been smiled on by an angel tonight.

She helped herself to some whiskey and met Louis' eye. New or not, he was fitting in well and he didn't appear to be a complete idiot. She almost approved of him. As she reached into her pocket and withdrew a cigarette she winked conspiratorially at him and nodded discreetly towards Lady Mary, who's eyes were already becoming darker as her pupils expanded.

"So Lady Mary, you think you can out drink me. Shall we put your theory to the test?" Branson looked teasingly at her, it wasn't a fair contest anymore, not after she'd consumed O'Brien's god awful alcoholic potion but he wouldn't be out done by anyone when it came to drinking. After all, he _was_ Irish.

Mary whipped her head round to him, feeling the room pass in front of her as in slow motion. "I think that we are not on an equal footing. I have not had any whiskey yet. Pour me a glass, footman!" No, wait. "Chauffeur!"

Sybil laughed, and curled an arm round Tom's waist possessively. She wasn't quite sure why. She blamed the whisky. It was making her light headed. Yes, that was it. That was all. "Go easy Mary. We don't want to have to drag your lifeless body back to your room!"

Branson felt Sybil's arm around his waist and couldn't help but grin, he hoped no-one spotted it but there was no reason to worry about Mary, she clearly couldn't see straight. He wondered briefly if she was an angry drunk or a happy one.

Mary took a sip of whiskey, its burning almost a relief in its familiarity after the beer, a smile on her face which was instantly instantly wiped off her face at Sybil's words. She jumped up, knocked her chair over and stared at her sister as if she'd seen a ghost, clutching at the table for support. The room was spinning. "There are no dead bodies in this house!" she exclaimed, as firmly as she could.

"There will be if your father catches them two." O'Brien nodded towards Tom and Sybil, but her comment went mostly unheard. Thankfully the partially deaf included Lady Mary.

Sybil looked surprised. "I never said there were! Goodness Mary, calm down and drink up!"

Louis grinned, noting Lady Mary's reaction to the drink. By his guess, she'd be treating them to renditions of badly sung pub songs and spilling her deepest darkest secrets within minutes He leant over. "What is that stuff? You could make a fortune!"

O'Brien nearly burst out laughing. Oh this was definitely worth parting with her secret liquor for!" It's two years worth of pilfered _everything_. Could never make it again, I'll tell you that for nothin'." She whispered back, liking this footman more and more. Perhaps with Thomas in such a strange mood lately it was worth widening her horizons?

Louis laughed.

"Well, whatever's in it, it's certainly doing its job!"

He nodded towards the exceedingly inebriated Mary, who was burbling something about dead bodies. A mischievous glint came into his eye.

"With her like this, it would be a perfect time to play something like Truth or Dare. Who knows what we might learn!"


End file.
